


Gerard's Ruthlessness

by cosim18



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, Kidnapped Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosim18/pseuds/cosim18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard wanted Scott to find his best friend bloodied and beaten, so this is what would have happened if Gerard stayed in character. Given how ruthless we had seen him be, it didn't fit that he barely beat up Stiles and didn't gloat to Scott. (apologies for terrible summary and terrible title)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gerard's Ruthlessness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first piece of fanfiction, ever, in any fandom, so I apologize that it's probably not very good. I talked with someone on tumblr and we both wanted more of a Gerard/Stiles scene along these lines, especially because to me it seemed a bit out of character for Gerard to be so lenient with Stiles. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated, whether good or bad! I'd love to write more fics but I don't know if I'd have the skill.

As the crowd began to surge around Jackson’s body on the field, Stiles felt a firm hand clasp around his mouth and another pull his waist back. Immediately he began to fight his captor, knowing his father was just across the field, but the strength of a scrawny teenage boy was nothing against a seasoned werewolf hunter. Stiles’ fruitless efforts were stopped once the man started to drag him backwards, his center of gravity thrown off, leaving him unable to keep his feet underneath him. A few seconds later and Stiles was thrown into the backseat of an SUV, and the vehicle sped off.

 

With all the commotion happening at the game, Sheriff Stilinski realized that his son, the key player in the night’s game, was gone.  
“Where’s Stiles?” The Sheriff mutters several times, scanning the crowd for his son’s lovable face. “Where the hell is my son?” He yells to nobody in particular, turning around on the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dorky, lanky Stiles.

 

“Y’know, kidnapping the son of a cop, not to mention a Sheriff, is not a good idea. You could just let me out now and go on your merry way.” Stiles knew they wouldn’t let him go, but his ADHD and anxiety made him blabber. “I wouldn’t even press charges.”  
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll make you shut up,” the man sitting next to him said.  
Without needing further prompting, Stiles stopped talking, instead choosing to inspect his hands and fingernails. He thought it was odd that he wasn’t restrained in any way, but he wasn’t about to complain. The drive continued in silence, though Stiles came close to talking again, but wasn’t sure quite how his captors would shut him up. He was also relying on Scott to be able to track his scent, as he knew his best friend would surely notice his absence at the end of the game. Before long, the truck pulled up to a house, and before Stiles could really determine where he was, a different guy opened his door and wrenched him out.  
“Um, ow. No need to be so rough, dude.” Stiles tried, but of course his assailant paid him no mind. The bigger man moved him into a house and down a few hallways.  
“Ow, ow, ow” Stiles sighed as the man tightly gripped his arm and neck, steering him towards a basement. The door swung open and before he could even take a step forward, the man pushed Stiles down the stairs and he landed face first on the cold cement floor. As Stiles clambered back to his feet, he groaned loudly before he realized he wasn’t alone as he heard someone whimper. Scared of what he was just thrown into a basement with, he clings to the wall behind him, searching for a light switch. After finding it, his face visibly pales as he realizes Erica and Boyd are hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, duct tape over their mouths. They both look terrified, an expression Stiles had never expected to see on Boyd’s face. 

 

Back in the locker room, Scott and Isaac tell Stilinski everything they know about Jackson’s apparent death. Once a silence creeps up on them, Stilinski turns his focus to his missing son.  
“I’ve got an APB out on Stiles. His jeep is still in the parking lot, which means … I don’t know what that means.” The older man looks clearly concerned, not wanting to think the worst. Recognizing this, Scott decided to jump in.  
“Look, he’s probably just freaked out cause of all the attention or something. We’ll find him. I promise.” Knowing exactly what is at stake, Scott becomes even more nervous at the news that there’s no way Stiles could’ve left the school on his own, given that his car was still there. Turning to Isaac they began to hatch a plan to find him by scent before being interrupted by Peter and Derek walking in.

 

Without needing to think, Stiles knows he needs to try to help the two werewolves, seeing as they’re the most capable of defending both themselves and him once their captors come back. They begin to make noise, moving slightly in the restraints, so he shushes them, not wanting to attract their captors’ attention. Reaching up, he tries to untie Erica before being zapped by the electric current running through her restraints, flinching backwards as he bit back a curse. In the nervousness wracking his body and the new pain, he hadn’t noticed the door to the basement opening, nor the sound someone walking down the steps.  
“They were trying to warn you it’s electrified,” Gerard says, sounding amused. The man holds a disgusted, ugly expression on his face. The sudden appearance of him made Stiles step back slightly.  
“What’re you doing with them?” Stiles forces his voice to be stronger than he’s feeling, especially considering the fact that he knows how ruthless Gerard is.  
“At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. They won’t give Derek up, the instinct to protect their Alpha is too strong.”  
“Okay … so what are you doing with me?” Stiles definitely looks scared now, not sure if he’ll be tortured for information or made to be bait somehow. Boyd and Erica look just as, if not more, scared than Stiles. “Because Scott can easily find me, he knows my scent. It’s pungent, y’know, more like a stench.” Stiles knows it’s not going to work, but he feels the need to try anyway.  
“You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend, bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?” Gerard is sneering now, and Stiles knows he’s not bluffing. As is usual, his only defense is sarcasm.  
“I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, y’know?” Stiles licks his lips nervously, and rolls his eyes in an attempt to seem brave as Gerard clenches his jaw, clearly angry.  
“Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this roo-” Stiles doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s backhanded so hard he winds up sprawled on the floor. Boyd and Erica are crying and yelling behind the duct tape, unable to watch. Gerard then kneels down to the floor, picking up Stiles by the scruff of his shirt, and continuously punches Stiles’ face. After a few hard punches, Stiles’ neck stays limp, his hand clenched on Gerard’s sleeve, trying to gain leverage to pull himself up. Instead, Gerard lands a punch directly on Stiles’ nose, breaking it and causing it to bleed. Instinctually Stiles reaches his hands to his nose to prevent further injury, and Gerard pulls himself up to standing. Stiles hopes that means the man is done beating up a teenager, but he’s wrong. Instead, Gerard takes to kicking Stiles, and the boy curls into the fetal position to attempt to alleviate further pain and any broken ribs. Unfortunately, Gerard lands a firm kick that breaks one and bruises a second.  
Stiles’ voice is hoarse, close to nonexistent, from yelling so much, and when Gerard finally finishes beating him up, he feels himself rolled onto his stomach, his hands tied behind his back. He’s pulled to standing, and dragged back up the basement stairs, too weak to walk himself. Erica and Boyd’s faces are wet, soaked with tears, as they attempt to scream and yell at Gerard and his men, but to no avail.  
As soon as they’re all clear of the stairs, having rounded the corner into the hallway, Gerard pushes Stiles against the wall, pulling out a knife.   
“Wha- what’s that for, huh? Didn’t get enough out of me?” Stiles rasps, his eyes wide with fear. Gerard simply smiles.  
“I thought I should leave you with a more permanent reminder to Scott as to why he should never have gotten mixed up in all of this.” And not a moment later, Stiles feels a flash of pain across his face, a slash from below his right eye to his lips. In the middle of his scream, a ball of cloth is shoved into his mouth, then duct tape lands on top, essentially muting the teen.  
Stiles is then dragged unceremoniously to the SUV again, shoved into the backseat just as before. He has no strength to struggle this time, and even if he did, he was extremely limited with his movements and wouldn’t be able to speak even without the gag. He sees the time in the car and realizes just how much time his beating took.

 

As Derek leaps into the warehouse with Isaac, Scott, and Chris Argent, Scott pulls him aside and tells him about Stiles. They both know they need to prioritize in doing something about the kanima, but Derek promises to help look for Stiles after they’re done. After all, the human has practically become pack, plus Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the teen’s sassy attitude. The two walk back to the car and the body bag, and as Derek leans over the body, baring his claws, Scott realizes the alpha intends to kill Jackson.  
“Wait! You promised you’d help him, not kill him!” He protests.  
“This thing is no longer Jackson, Scott, you need to realize that. It’s a killing machine now, a guard dog. And it’s under Gerard’s thumb, do you really think that’s going to turn out well?” Derek asks, incredulous.  
“No, I know my father. If this thing is a dog, then it’s going rabid. And Gerard would know that it needs to be put down.” Chris cut in, a small part of him hoping he was wrong about the sneaking suspicion he had regarding his father.  
“How right you are, son,” Gerard remarks, startling everyone as he comes out of the darkness. The moment distracts Derek enough that he doesn’t even notice the kanima waking, until its claws are buried in his chest. The creature rises up before tossing the werewolf to the side, making sure to cut the back of his neck and paralyze him first.  
“Now, Scott, since you smartly decided to help me, I’m going to give something back that I took.” Scotts face fills with a mixture of dread and confusion. Before he can ask what the old man means, he sees two of Gerard’s men dragging Stiles’ body in, each of them holding one of Stiles’ restrained arms. At first glance, Stiles actually looks dead, covered in blood and bruises, not supporting his weight at all, not seeming to breathe. Scott looks terror-stricken, before Derek notices the scrawny teen’s heartbeat. Scott yells his best friend’s name, trying to get him to come back to consciousness. The weak nature of his heartbeat makes the werewolves worry that if Stiles doesn’t wake up soon, he never will. It looks painful and like it took the weight of the world, but Stiles manages to open his eyes, finding first Scott then Derek in the swarm of faces in front of him.  
“Let him go! He was never part of our deal!” Scott yells, clearly angry.  
“Well, no, but it’s so much harder to get to your sweet mother. Besides, Mr. Stilinski here was perfectly willing to try to help me persuade you to go along with our little plan, weren’t you?” Gerard directs the question at Stiles, knowing he can’t respond. If looks could kill, though, Gerard would be burning at the stake.   
“Help me, Mr. McCall, and you’ll get your friend back, as well as my assurances that no harm will come to your mother.”   
Feeling as though he had no choice, Scott slowly pulls the paralyzed Derek over to Gerard. Even though Derek struggles, albeit with his mouth rather than his non-functioning body, Scott simply whispers “trust me” to the alpha. Grabbing the scruff of the younger Hale’s hair and pulling his head back, Scott forces Derek to bare his teeth, ready for Gerard to receive the bite. After Gerard gets what he wants, he waves to his associates to release Stiles. The men all but throw the teen toward the group, Scott only just catching Stiles before he impacts the ground. He carefully peels the tape off of Stiles's mouth and unties his hands, wincing as he realizes how extensive the damage was.  
As Derek began to regain feeling throughout his body, he crawls over to Stiles to check up on him, rather than fight Gerard. Scott is carefully taking away some of Stiles’ pain, but then Stiles urges him to stop, knowing there’s too much for Scott to safely take.  
“Dude, we’ve got bigger problems here than me just being in pain. Go take care of Gerard. Kick his sick ass if you need to, please.” Stiles whispers hoarsely, not having the strength to speak with more conviction. “If you don’t, I will, and we all know that would turn out brilliantly.” Even injured, Stiles felt the need to try to add in a sarcastic comment. He nodded at Derek, indicating that he was talking to the both of them and not just Scott.  
“There’s no need, I already took care of it,” Scott whispers, both Derek and Stiles looking at him like he’d grown a second head in the past few minutes.  
At the same time, Gerard was still gloating in the apparent success of his plan. Even Peter looked shocked, hiding in the shadows, before Gerard’s expression suddenly changed to anger and confusion. Scott cradled Stiles’ head in his lap as he explained how he’d switched Gerard’s medication for mountain ash, and Gerard's smile melted into an ugly grimace. He quickly collapsed, and as Gerard lay coughing up black blood, he screamed at his kanima like a lunatic, “Kill them! Kill them all!”   
Jackson made a move toward the group before Lydia’s voice rang out, calling his name. She looked terrified of everything going on as she ran into the warehouse, looking like she wanted to break down upon seeing Stiles’ bloodied and beaten form, but knew she needed to continue. She pulled out the key that Jackson had given her. Her hand was shaking and tears streamed down her face, but she held her ground. The kanima approached her slowly, before seeing its reflection in the rear-view mirror of Chris’s car. Slowly it transformed back into Jackson. At that moment, Peter ran out of the shadows as Derek also shot up, and he and Derek jointly impaled their claws into Jackson as he had realized all he had done, willingly giving himself up. He collapsed, Lydia cradling his head and crying, before he appeared to die.  
As Jackson stopped breathing, Stiles also grew weaker, though when Jackson began to rise again, his eyes glowing a brilliant blue and emitting a wolf’s howl, Stiles became slightly more alert. Scott pulled his friend up, and before Stiles drifted into unconsciousness, he muttered, “Great, now we have two sour wolves. Just terrific.”


End file.
